


glow in the grey

by yonder



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon's perpetual heart eyes, M/M, Martin's poetic tendencies, The Power Of Love, post-TMA 170, recovering from the lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonder/pseuds/yonder
Summary: Apparently TMA is a "horror podcast" and can't just be endless "tenderness"?? Anyway I guess all it takes for me to actually post a fic - one with dialogue, no less - is just finding Martin Blackwood, former sad gay and current Avatar of Love, very very relatable.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	glow in the grey

They walk out of the foggy valley hand in hand. Very intentionally, neither of them looks back at the house.

On the far side of the hill, the world, such as it is, is no longer shrouded in mist. The ever-watching sky is visible again. It surveys the landscape they've become used to - dried grass, roads of salty mud, dead hedgerows. They duck under a fence and into a stand of trees, and Jon tugs Martin to a halt. 

He doesn't want to lose contact with Martin, not again, but this is more important. He frees his hand from Martin's so he can unshoulder his pack. He drops it unceremoniously to the ground and then lunges forward to wrap his arms around Martin.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers into the crook of Martin's neck. His skin is still too cool, Jon thinks. "I should have seen where we were headed."

"Jon, no- " Martin starts.

"I should have known." His lungs feel tight with something approaching panic, and the words tumble out of him. "I've seen every other domains coming for miles. Every one of them, and we've prepared. We've got through them. And then this house, out of nowhere, and then you're gone, and I can't find you, I can't See you, I didn't even understand where we were, it could have taken you- "

"Jon! Stop. Please." Martin gently tucks his hands around Jon's narrow waist, and pulls away far enough to look him in the eyes. "We got out."

"We almost didn't. You almost didn't."

"Well. You know, I think I would have."

"What? But it almost had you."

Martin thinks back, as best he can, to the feeling of being surrounded by chill mist, thoughts circling and dissipating. "I think - I can't be sure, but I was already on my way out when you found me."

"Wh- how?"

"That whole place, it just - it makes you forget things. It just sucks away all of the memories. It just leaves you with nothing, with fog. I remembered my mom, for a little while, in there. I took care of her for so long, you know? But I couldn't even remember her face. All of that time, and everything that happened, and she was just another blur in the fog. They were all like that, everyone I thought I knew. I knew, logically, that some of them must have cared about me at some point right? But I couldn't remember what that even felt like, to be cared for."

"Martin, you don't have to- " Jon grabs a fistful of Martin's jacket. "I don't want to make you- "

"No, I think it's important. I want you to know." He takes a breath. "I kept remembering you, too. I remembered working at the Institute, working with you, for you, but - before all of this. Before I really knew you, back when you were my boss and you were just someone I wanted to impress. But I couldn't remember your face either."

Jon goes still. 

"Anyway, I could still remember peoples' names, some of them. But no faces, just little fragments here and there. And I knew my name, and that it was important to keep remembering my name, like that was a bit of something to hold on to. I knew that, even if I didn't know where I was or who else might be in the fog with me. But it was so cold, and things kept slipping away and getting lost. Every time I found something meaningful, it sort of - just fell out of my mind, like someone decided it didn't matter."

He pauses and looks at Jon, making sure he's following. 

"It took me a while to get all the pieces together," Martin continues. "They kept slipping away. But I had my name, and I remembered. Well. What it feels like to not be lonely, um. But more than that, what it feels like to be - to be in love. And I just grabbed on to that, that feeling of, of - its, a glow, maybe? Like your whole body is giving off this light, and warmth. I knew that I had that glow in me, that it was me, and - and then I remembered your name."

Martin looks down at him again, and Jon realises that he's made some kind of anguished noise. Martin tucks his hands deeper under Jon's coat and goes on.

"So, I said your name, and I said it again, and I said my own name, and every time I did, it - the glow got brighter, like I had a little live ember in my chest and it was growing and getting hotter. It got into my feet and then I was running down that hallway, pushing aside the grey ghosts, calling your name. And then it spread into my brain and burned the fog away, and I could focus, just this bright, sharp focus. And I could remember, remember things that matter, that I am Martin Blackwood, and I am in love with you, Jon Sims. And the mist just kept falling away, and then." He pauses for a breath. "And then I heard your voice."

"Martin- " Jon's voice is small and quiet.

"I think I would have made it out, all on my own. I really do. I would have made it because nothing, no fear, no eldrich power, no damp horrible-smelling old house, is going to make me forget what it feels like to be in love with you."

Martin stops suddenly. "So," he continues, less forcefully. "Thank you, Jon. I - I guess you're my anchor too."

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but can't. He's overcome with a feeling that's a lot like Knowing, and he tries to shut it out. He promised Martin he wouldn't do that, and he won't, especially not after what he's just been through. But the certainty persists, and it's not impartial like beholding, it's something else. It's an understanding, that something bigger than him is happening, some new power is at play. 

The new certainty sits in his bones and he's trembling with it, and all he can do is feel Martin's hands on his waist, and know with only his human eyes and his human mind. That's all he needs, to know this: that Martin loves him, and it makes Martin powerful. It makes them both powerful.

It's too much for his body to bear. He leans into Martin, pressing as close as he can, pushing his hands into Martin's curly hair. The chill in his skin is dissipating, but not fast enough. He needs to fix this, he can't let this man, his Martin, be cold for another minute.

"I love you," he says. He still feels like he's vibrating as he chokes out the words. "Martin. I love you so much. I love you and I'm in love with you and I will never stop. I will never stop saying it and I want you to know that, I want you to know it so well that you can never forget it."

Martin blushes, and his eyes crinkle. Jon thinks he might drop dead on the spot, knowing even just with his own human ability to know, that this smile is for him. 

"Good," Martin says, and his voice is mischievous. When he leans forward to nudge his nose against Jon's, his breath is warm. "Tell me more about that."

The request sends an electric shock into his gut, sets the new know knowing humming again in his long bones and in the hollows of his chest. He wants Martin to know too, to understand. "Hearing you describe it as a glow," he begins. "I just. I look at you, and you're the most beautiful thing left in this entire wretched situation that we're in, and the only thing keeping me on this side of inhumanity. And hearing you say- God, you're such a poet, Martin- that you are in love, with me, and that it feels like, like that? That it's enough to drive away the lonely, which is one of the most insidious fears there is, one that I can't even See, let alone counter? That I make you feel like that?" He gasps for breath. "I don't - I don't even know how to say it. I'm in love with you is a vague approximation, but it doesn't begin to really cover it."

Martin gathers him close again, hands smoothing up his back, and he huffs a laugh into Jon's ear. "It's okay," he says. "We can't all be poets."

They stay there for a while, just holding each other as close as they can, until Jon is satisfied that Martin is warm and breathing evenly. They'll need to get moving soon, making their way along toward the tower on the horizon. He's surprised when the prospect of approaching the tower makes him laugh.

"You know, I don't think he's prepared for you."

"Hm? Who?" says Martin.

"Jonah Magnus. He doesn't know what he's got himself into. You can walk out of the Lonely just because you feel like it, what could you do to the Eye?"

Martin glances up at the watching sky, and then looks back down at Jon and smiles. "We'll figure it out when we get there, I guess. Power of love and all that."

Jon smiles, too, but an echo of that new knowing makes him shiver. Martin leans down to kiss him, gentle and slow, and when they break apart, the glow lingers between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently TMA is a "horror podcast" and can't just be endless "tenderness"?? Anyway I guess all it takes for me to actually post a fic - one with dialogue, no less - is just finding Martin Blackwood, former sad gay and current Avatar of Love, very very relatable.


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